“Almost.”

“Almost wha—”

The ringing of the crossing guards echoes down the track and I look up at Maddoc with a grin.

“Here it comes.”

His eyes follow the sound.

I rush from the SUV, quickly pulling my hair up.

The first part of the train blows by and Maddoc gives me a look that says ‘no fucking way are you doing what I think you’re doing’ but then it starts to slow, the blurry images becoming clearer as the speed lessens, and his shoulders relax a bit.

“Get ready, big man.”

“Raven...” he warns. “I don’t fucking think so—”

“Now!”

I take off, running parallel with the train, moving closer every few feet. I grin when Maddoc catches up to me.

I glance back, then cut a quick nod at Maddoc. I turn in, gripping the front railing of an open cart and yank myself up. Maddoc does the same on the back handle.

He quickly tosses himself inside, but I stand at the open edge for a moment longer.

When he shouts, I pull myself inside and lean against the wall.

I take a second to catch my breath then look to him, laughing at his pissy expression.

“Not fucking funny,” he growls.

I wave him off, my hand hitting my stomach as I take a deep breath, settling my heart rate from the short sprint.

I push off the side and Maddoc’s stare grows panicked. He darts forward, but before he can step past the side wall, I run across to him.

“Goddamn it, Raven.”

I drop onto my ass and lean against the metal, close enough to the door where I can feel the force of air as it flies past my shoes.

“Chill, big man.” I meet his stare. “Sit.”

He considers standing just to prove a point but drops against the opposite side.

After a few minutes of silence, he says, “I take it you do this a lot?”

“All the time. Or I used to do it all the time.” I look out the car. “I’ve been wanting to come ride here though.”

“You’ve been out here?”

I nod. “Few times, yeah. I spent a couple hours watchin’, trying to get the timing down for when they slowed enough to jump.” I take a deep breath.

“So what now?”

I tilt my head so I can see the rusted iron containers as the train makes a wide curve down the tracks. Some are blank, some telling other people’s stories in the form of bright paints.

“Now you chill, let the outside world fly behind you. Pretend wherever the driver has to stop somehow lines up with right where you’re supposed to take the leap, but jumping off is the easy part. After, when you have to decide if you get back on or step away and never look back? That’s when shit gets real.

“That’s when you find out if you’re as weak as everyone thinks, or as strong as you always hoped.” I chance a look at Maddoc and when I do, my skin grows warm.

His stare is forward for him, completely unconcealed. Curiosity and realization, a need to know more sitting at the edge of his lips. So many questions. So many misconceptions.

But I know him by now. His words won’t match his wonder.

“Conductor,” he rasps.

I pinch my lips together, but a soft laugh still escapes. “What?”

He licks his lips and looks off, moving to prop his elbows up on his knees, his back against the gold metal. “The driver, the term is conductor.”

“Right.” I drop my grin to my feet, then look out the car again.

I close my eyes and smile at the wind. “Tell me something, big man.”

“Like what?”

I pop a shoulder. “I don’t care. Anything.”

He’s quiet a few minutes and I think he won’t play along, then he surprises me. “I hate going to the movies.”

I laugh, my eyes still closed. “Not surprising.”

“How so?”

“You’re extremely aware. You read every situation, spot things others don’t -it’s why you’re so good at basketball. It’s like a natural sixth sense. A dark theater would make that impossible, and if you can’t read what’s happening around you, you’re constantly on edge, not in control.” I open my eyes to meet his. “And control is something you need to feel you.”

He glares.

“I’m not being a bitch, I swear, I’m just saying it’s a part of who you are. Nothing wrong with it if you believe in yourself.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but instead jerks his chin.

“Your turn.” He drops his head against the cart. “Tell me something. Something I wouldn’t be able to guess.”

“What, like I sleep with a nightlight?” I joke, but he doesn’t laugh, just stares.

After a quiet moment, he says, “Yeah, like that.”

“Um...” I pull my sleeves over my hands. “I hate milk by itself, but I love it in cereal.”

“I hate chocolate.”

“What?” I shout with a laugh. “Nobody hates chocolate.”

“I do.”

“Wow,” I explain with exaggerated awe. “Weird.”

His lips tip into a small grin. “Your turn.”

“I hate my mother.”

He doesn’t say anything, so I look his way again. “But that’s no surprise, right?”

His brows lower.

“She’s always been a piece of shit, my whole life, as far as I can remember anyway. But there was one time where everything sucked the teeniest bit less. Wanna know why?” A wry grin slips. “A client stuck.”

“Since he knew about her job of choice, she didn’t have to lie about who she was and what she did. Used and abused and all, he accepted her. Me too. He even claimed to have kids, but I never met them.” I focus on the sky.

“She got better with him, wasn’t clean, but functioned like a human instead of a toy with dying batteries – still turned tricks, but he never seemed to mind.

“For the first time ever, I had a dinnertime. Every night, when the sensor lights on the trailers started popping on – there were no street lamps in my neighborhood – I’d run back. Excited for stupid dinner that was never anything more than macaroni and cheese with hotdogs or rice and sauce. Dumb shit, but it was the first time she’s ever seemed to care if I ate since I was big enough to make my own cereal, so I thought it was cool. Lasted about a year.”

“What happened?”

“I ruined it.”

“How?”

With a deep inhale, I look to Maddoc. “Puberty.”

His features morph in an instant, flashing with incomprehensible anger. “Raven.”

“He started paying more attention to me, ‘neglecting her,’ she’d say. She beat my ass, told me I wasn’t allowed around him if I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.” I remember how angry she’d get. “Kinda hard when my room was the two feet between the table and the couch, that was also my bed.”

Silence stretches between us for several minutes before Maddoc speaks, his voice a deep raspy mumble.

“I like cheese on popcorn.”

My stare flies to Maddoc and I grin earning a dismal one in return.

“We should probably get off, we’ll need to catch one back before dark.”